


Hardly Optimal

by imaginarycircus



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, Unrequited Love, bowties are good for every occasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-06
Updated: 2012-11-06
Packaged: 2017-11-18 02:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/555851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/pseuds/imaginarycircus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Darcy hands Lizzie the letter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hardly Optimal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/gifts).



> A teeny happy birthday fic in thanks to Aja who convinced me to delve into this canon and for which I will be forever grateful. ♥ And I am so sorry if this is the most depressing birthday fic ever written.

There wasn't a bike ride long or arduous enough to combat the intensity of his feelings. He stood outside his car in the parking garage, staring at his keys as if he wasn't sure what they were even for. It was as if the laws of physics had gone on vacation leaving the world spinning madly out of orbit, plummeting toward the sun, which would devour it. He could get drunk, but that was only a temporary reprieve and then he'd have a broken heart and a hangover and that was hardly optimal. 

Even though he'd seen the videos and all the evidence that she loathed him, when he'd been close to her he'd longed to touch her face, stroke her cheek, to kiss her. It was intolerable to want so badly, with such desperation, and to know he'd never have anything but her disdain. He'd held her in his arms once at that wretched wedding and through many months she'd stubbornly remained there, imprinted on his senses like a ghost. 

He wasn't stupid. He knew he was reserved, uncomfortable around strangers, and too serious for his own good. He'd hoped she'd see past that, past the shell. She seemed able to do it with everyone else, so why not with him? She was everything he was not: vibrant, sweet, charming, whimsical, warm. Worst of all she was passionate, even in her dislikes, maybe especially in her dislikes. She seemed to harbor a deeply entrenched bitterness for him and he could not say that he didn't deserve it. 

The drive home was a blur and he probably should have returned to his office, but he just could not face other people. He biked as far as he possibly could and returned home just before dark. The ride hadn't cleared one iota of space in the thick crowd of his thoughts, but he was exhausted and sore and it was nice to ache in a way that wasn't related to his crushing sense of failure. 

He took a shower, ate dinner, and checked his email. _Robotically_ , he thought, but the joke brought him no pleasure. He had friends who knew him, liked him and they were good, kind people. Lizzie even liked them. Why couldn't she like him? The word pulsed in his veins with every beat of his battered heart. Why? He wasn't a bad person and he was quite capable of love, of kindness. The letter probably wouldn't soften her toward him, but she'd know the truth, as he now did. He stood with Aristotle on the matter. One should honor truth above friendship. 

Did he really think that? Maybe he needed to rethink that. 

Had she read the letter? She posted videos on Mondays and Thursday. He'd have to wait to check and he knew he would even if it served no purpose and would do nothing to purge her from his system. After all this time he was pretty certain she was lodged within him permanently and that was the tragedy of it. There was a good possibility he might never fall in love again and that left his future rather bleak and unappealing. 

He couldn't help but check her online presence for some sign. He combed through all the sites he knew she used and there. On Twitter. She'd unfollowed George Wickham. She'd read the letter and he hoped that perhaps she was a little less inclined to think badly of him with that sin removed from his account. The weight on his chest lightened and he could breathe more easily. Hope snuck in before he could squelch it, before he could stop himself from praying that in the future he'd do better, be better and that she might not think quite so badly of him. He wasn't fool enough to think that she'd ever love him, but it might just be bearable if she didn't hate him.


End file.
